The Legends (26 page)

Gráinne whined a bit when she realized that although he was dressed as he always did when he went to train with Mr. Blessington, she was not coming along. Brian gave her a good scratch behind the ears and told her what a great dog she was explaining that just this time he needed to train without her. Gráinne looked up at him and seemed to understand. She settled back onto her blanket and concentrated on the treat that Brian’s mother gave the dog to keep her occupied. While Gráinne chewed on her biscuit, Brian slipped out the front door and headed for the school.

Brian reported to the soccer pitch behind St. Killians well before the practice scheduled for 4:00 p.m. and found that no one else had arrived. Sitting on the warm grass, he pulled on his shin guards and soccer boots, closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment. Brian knew he was a talented player but the chance to not only compete but to be part of a team was something that he had looked forward to for nearly as many years as he could remember. The thought that his big day finally arrived gave him a special feeling and he couldn’t help but smile. Although he enjoyed the feeling, Brian decided the smile had to go. He certainly did not want anyone to see him with his eyes closed displaying what he knew must appear to be very silly grin so he opened his eyes and began a series of stretching exercises Mr. Blessington had showed him.

As he pushed himself out over his right leg that was extended in front while his left was bent to his side, he remembered Mr. Blessington's advice that the biggest mistake a lot of younger athletes make is to assume that because their muscles are young and supple, there is no need to warm up. Mr. Blessington had told Brian that he thought his own knee injury was caused in part because he had not warmed up properly so Brian had decided that he would always stretch. As he was diligently going through the series of warm-ups that Mr. Blessington prescribed, Mr. McElhatton—the coach—arrived on the pitch attempting to balance a large canvass bag of balls, several small plastic cones and a clipboard.

On seeing the coach, Brian abandoned his exercises and trotted over to help carry the load. “Ah Brian, thank you,” Mr. McElhatton said as he handed over the canvass bag. “I see you have decided to join us.”

“Yes sir,” Brian replied. “My consent form is in my gym bag.”

“Very good,” the coach responded. “You may not have played any matches but at least you know about stretching. And Brian, it is all right for you to call me Coach or Coach Mac. That is what all the other lads call me.”

“Yes sir … I mean Coach Mac,” Brian replied.

A few minutes later the other players started to arrive, shouting greetings to one another and generally ragging on each other. Several players grabbed a ball that Coach Mac emptied from the canvass bag, joined with two or three other players and began juggling or kicking the ball within the group. Brian watched for a short time, trying to decide whether he should join a group or take a ball by himself. The decision was made for him when Chad Pembroke arrived and confident as could be pulled a ball with his studs and signaled Brian to join him.

“Come on, my small friend,” he said with a smile, “and let’s see what you have.”

Brian was a little annoyed at the reference to his size, particularly because this was now the second time the blonde haired boy mentioned it, but rather than make a big deal out of it, he walked over to where Chad was juggling the ball with moderate success. Brian was a little surprised because after hearing Chad talk, he expected that the taller boy would be able to keep the ball in the air indefinitely, something he had been able to do for ages.

The two were joined by another boy who, like Brian, looked a little unsure of the proper thing to do. Brian seemed to recall having seen him at the first year initiation so the boy probably recognized Chad and himself as fellow first year students. After moving apart so the three boys were in an evenly spaced triangle, Brian surprised himself by saying that he was Brian and the third lad was Chad. “Peter,” the boy replied with a crooked smile.

Meanwhile Chad was on his third, or maybe fourth attempt at keeping the ball in the air and when it fell once again, he pushed it over toward Brian exaggerating his attempt to make the ball move very slowly as if he were kicking it to a little child. Brian moved up on the ball and crisply passed it with the inside of his right foot toward Peter. The new boy stopped the ball and sent it back to Chad.

“Well that’s a bit better than I thought,” Chad said with a smile as he again attempted to juggle the ball. Brian set his jaw and said nothing although he had to admit to himself that his newfound acquaintance was beginning to annoy him. Chad noticed that his condescending comment did not bring a grateful smile to Brian’s face so assuming that Brian was right-footed he kicked to ball to Brian left with a great deal more pace than was necessary for the short distance that separated the three boys.

The pass did not trouble Brian in the slightest, rather in a move that happened so quickly that Chad barely noticed, Brian’s left foot flicked and the ball rolled off the outside of his boot arriving at Peter with perfect passing pace. Again, Peter stopped the ball before kicking it back to Chad, using the toe of his right foot. Brian could tell that Peter was not very experienced but at least he was trying without making a lot of noise.

Chad, however, was another matter. He obviously assumed that Brian’s pass to Peter was the result of a lucky bounce so he gave it no credence. When the ball arrived, he flipped it up and headed it in Brian’s direction. Calmly following suit, Brian easily nodded the ball to Peter's feet and, once again, after stopping the ball, Peter sent it back to Chad. Chad stood on the ball for a moment looking over at Brian. “You surprise me my small friend,” he said with what he thought was a charming smile. “At least you have some basic skills.”

Once again, the comment about his size annoyed Brian and he wondered whether the taller boy knew this and was just trying to get under his skin or, perhaps he was just trying to be clever. Brian, however, was not one to make a scene but he did decide to put an end to the whole charade and he knew exactly how he would accomplish that.

Chad rifled the next shot at Brian’s chest, expecting perhaps that his “small friend” would dodge away or mishandle the ball. He was however, badly mistaken. Brian took the shot against his chest pulling back at just the right moment so the ball dropped perfectly on his feet. From there Brian expertly juggled the ball several times using both the inside and the outside of both feet, at one point stopping the ball on his foot and rolling it around his ankle to the other side. Brian then popped the ball onto his head where he balanced it for several seconds before allowing it to roll down his back and onto his left heel. The left heel flicked the ball back over his head and it landed on his right foot as if Velcro stuck it there. After another long moment he flipped the ball onto his left shoulder and allowed it to roll over his back to the right shoulder and then leaning back, he stopped the ball in the middle of his chest for another brief moment. After returning the ball to his feet and juggling it several more times circling the ball with his foot between each juggle, he finally stopped the ball on his foot once again and rolled a pass over to Peter who missed stopping the ball completely because he was staring at Brian.

Chad also stood staring, speechless for undoubtedly one of the few times in his life. Brian looked over at Chad without a trace of a smile, and announced in a quiet voice, “My name is Brian, not your small friend.”

Although he did not realize it, the remainder of the team witnessed most of the performance and as a result, not only the impromptu passing but also the pre-practice banter came to an abrupt halt. Nearly two dozen players stood frozen in place gaping at Brian.

Coach McElhatton also stood to one side attempting to mask his smile behind the right hand covering his mouth. After letting the whole scene sink in, he stepped forward and said, “All right lads. This young fellow is Brian O’Sullivan and he knows a bit about playing soccer. We have a great deal of work to do so let’s circle up and start our stretching.”

As the team moved into position, most of the players seemed to be keeping an eye on Brian. None of them had ever seen that level of ball control, even those who had been present at clinics given by members of the national team. Although such skills did not necessarily translate into ability on the pitch, they all suspected that, just like Coach Mac said, the boy knew a bit about playing soccer.

No one was more surprised than Chad Pembroke and after recovering from his initial shock, he ran over to Brian and said, “Sorry about the small fellow bit matey. I thought you said you hadn’t played soccer.”

Brian allowed himself to smile a bit. After all he wanted to be a member of a team, and there was no use staying angry at Chad who had obviously apologized. “What I said was that I had never played in a soccer match, not that I had never played soccer.”

“Well why not,” Chad asked having regained a great deal of his confidence. “You’re great, maybe even better than me.”

This time Brian knew Chad was making a joke at his own expense, so Brian just smiled and said softly, “Circumstances, matey, circumstances.”

Harry McElhatton shook his head in amazement as he reached for the telephone preparing to ring his old friend Nigel Blessington. Harry had been involved in soccer since he was a small boy. He had never been a great player or anything like that but he loved the game, played at several levels and over the years had listened carefully to his own coaches. When he was old enough he qualified for his coaching license, and over the years took the courses necessary to keep it current and attended more than his share of clinics. The net result was that Harry believed he had a sound understanding of the game and was well equipped to coach at the high school level.

After taking the position of mathematics teacher at St. Killians Junior/Senior High School, Harry also took on responsibility for the school soccer program and he had now coached the boy’s teams for nearly twenty years. The school didn’t win very often because it was a smaller school and the better soccer players were more involved with their own clubs. It was a bit of the chicken and the egg. The school didn’t win so better players didn’t bother coming out and since the better players didn’t bother coming out, the school team didn’t win.

Then too, good athletes might also be involved in other sports like hurling or Irish football, again at a club level. In addition, County Louth had never been a great hotbed of soccer although one of its native sons was a stalwart defender on the Irish National side and the sport was becoming more popular. The net result was that it was not considered particularly cool to be part of St. Killians soccer team so many students with the time and skills couldn’t be bothered to play. Although that was the case, the team did have a few strong players but success would usually be dependent on depth and not enough good players participated to make the program a success.

Technically the school, like most of its kind, had four teams: under thirteen, under fourteen, under sixteen and a senior side. In practice, however, the school only fielded two teams, under sixteen and seniors and even that did not necessarily guarantee that the two teams were fully rostered. There were often not enough older students to field a senior team so younger students ended up playing on the senior team with predictable results.

Conversely, in some years there were not enough junior players who expressed an interest so the school did not field a junior team at all and the only opportunity the younger lads had was with the senior team. If there was a full squad of senior players, the younger players didn’t get to play at all. As for the inter-school competitions, it was fruitless to even consider the All-Ireland Cup competition because the single elimination format would mean the season was over before it began. At least the provincial league competition guaranteed three matches but it had been many years since a St. Killians team, at any level, emerged from the group stages.

As he paged through the meager stack of parental consents that he had accumulated before the afternoon’s practice, he realized that this year would be one of those years with very few senior players. Remarkably, the girl’s soccer team didn’t seem to have a similar problem and he half considered poaching one or two of the girls who showed particular talent. Unfortunately, Rob Gunne, the girl’s coach was not amused. In short, before the first whistle had blown Harry resigned himself to another year in which St. Killians would be lucky to scratch out a draw or two.

All that had changed approximately thirty seconds before the first practice had even begun. The boys were messing around, as they usually did before the formal practice started. Ordinarily Harry paid little attention to these antics but his friend Nigel had mentioned that he was familiar with a first year student named Brian O’Sullivan and, in his opinion, the boy had exceptional skills. Harry knew that Nigel had played professionally in England and undoubtedly knew what he was talking about, so he made a special effort to encourage the young man to participate.

When he met Brian at the first year orientation, Harry’s first impression was not overwhelming. The boy was quiet and shy and although he was solidly built, young Brian was of average height. Interestingly enough when Harry asked him if he would like to play the boy’s only concern was whether or not he would be allowed to compete if he was good enough. What kind of a question was that? He would definitely have to ask if Nigel could explain why a child would require an answer to something so obvious. Harry must have struck a responsive chord because Brian was the first one to show up at the practice and he was diligently stretching when Harry arrived – no doubt a credit to Nigel.

The boy was also courteous and respectful, immediately offering to assist him with the bulky equipment. Now that was something Harry didn’t always get from other players. When the other boys arrived, teamed up and began to pass the balls between themselves, he had seen that young Brian stood quietly to one side waiting to be invited into a group. Not exactly aggressive, Harry thought at the time.